


In A Clearing

by cephalopod_groupie



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Both hurt/sick and trying to take care of the other, Discovery of Hidden Injury, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fairy Tale Curses, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mistakenly Believes the Other is Dead, Technically awful attempts at comfort are actually very comforting, Time Loop - Escape by Revealing Feelings, Time Travel Do-Over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:41:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24199906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cephalopod_groupie/pseuds/cephalopod_groupie
Summary: Geralt gets a few unexpected chances to reunite with Jaskier.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 6
Kudos: 44
Collections: Hurt Comfort Exchange 2020





	In A Clearing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlueWolves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueWolves/gifts).



In the forest near Sodden Hill, Geralt of Rivia wandered. Yennefer’s name still echoing somehow even many days later. But now another sound, like the gentle sound of a lute as the player approached. Was it Jaskier at last, Geralt wondered. Geralt strained to hear and looked through the trees but there was no sign of anyone. He followed the filtering light to a clearing and sat down, feeling the need to rest. His leg was still paining him. The sound of the lute became stronger and Geralt squinted. It was beginning to annoy him. Plagued by guilt at rejecting Jaskier, now he was to heard him as well. 

“Another curse,” Geralt muttered. He sighed and with some effort stood, unable to help himself from searching for the source of the sound. As if he willed himself to hear it, Jaskier’s lilting tones echoed somewhere far off. Geralt’s mouth gaped open. He swallowed and walked forward, the sound coming closer and growing stronger. But then Jaskier’s song broke off into a sob. Geralt stopped in his tracks. Before the next thought could form in his head he felt himself being drawn forward with ever increasing speed. 

Geralt found himself in a dark tavern which was packed to the rafters with the worst ne'er-do-wells. The lute had ceased its tune but Jaskier’s voice could still be heard faintly in the din. No one seemed to see the Witcher. Usually his impressive bulk drew everyone’s attention as if they were spellbound, but now he seemed to be invisible. And there Jaskier was, in a corner table, softly crying to himself, a lovely cloak draped over his shoulders. A sickening wave of guilt passed through Geralt as he approached. He recalled Jaskier’s words to him when they had first met: “I love the way you just sit in the corner and brood.” Now Jaskier was doing the brooding. He tried to sing but gave up, putting his head in his hands. Even his crying had a melody somehow. 

“If only I had…” Jaskier mumbled. Suddenly he slammed his fist on the table in an uncharacteristic manner. “Damn him! Insensitive bastard. If he…if I had just stayed with him he would be alive now.” 

Geralt stared, utterly perplexed. He reached out, wanting to comfort him but he stopped himself. 

“Damn Geralt!” Jaskier growled before bursting into tears once again. Wiping his tears he sang to himself, “…there once was Witcher, his fate was set to go on forever, but he perished by the bite of death…” 

Geralt rolled his eyes and groaned. He was just about to speak when another group of ruffians crowded in behind him and without warning he tripped backward and almost caught himself but then he didn’t stop falling. He was back in the cleaning again, flat on his back. 

“Jaskier,” he whispered. He stood again, searching wildly for a sound, any sound, but he heard nothing but the birds, mocked by their cheery song. He felt around for the portal he had been sucked into but there was nothing there. He picked up a large branch and threw it into the forest. It disappeared in mid air. Geralt stared in shock again for a second and then ran into the space where the branch had vanished. And there he was, looking out over the valley, Jaskier next to him. He was both reliving the exchange and watching it as well. 

“Look, why don’t we leave tomorrow,” Jaskier said “That is if you’ll give me another chance to prove myself a worthy travel companion” 

Geralt grunted. He wish he would have said something, anything more than just a pathetic gruff noise that was of no use to anyone. 

“We could head to the coast, get away for a while. Sounds like something Borch would say, doesn’t it? ‘Life is too short.’ Do what pleases you…while you can.” 

“Composing your next song.” The Witcher wanted to punch himself. How could he ever think that Jaskier was being insincere in this moment?

“No, I’m just uh..trying to work out what pleases me.” 

Geralt knew this was a moment he could change and he spoke as he hadn’t done before. 

“And it pleases you to follow me around like a mule?” He heard himself say.

Before Geralt could respond to Jaskier’s shocked expression he was thrust back through the portal and sprawled out on the forest floor. He grumbled in pain and stood up, walking back into the portal. He didn’t notice that it had diminished by a few inches in diameter. 

He was sitting next to Jaskier again. He could find nothing to say in response to Jaskier being a “worthy travel companion.” Of course he was. But Geralt paused too long, grunted again, and the conversation carried on as it had done before. Flat on his back and swearing, Geralt got up from the cleaning and stormed back into the portal. 

“…do what pleases you…while you can.” Jaskier’s voice was breathy and sensuous and inviting. 

Geralt turned to Jaskier, their faces bathed in sunset. A hopeful light glimmered in Jaskier’s eyes. The Witcher shift himself to face him. With bated breath Jaskier watched Geralt’s mouth as the man took his face in his hands and parted his lips with a passion that Jaskier had never known. 

Geralt was back in the clearing, sweating and dirty and very angry. 

“What the fuck did I do wrong this time?!” 

He got up and ran to the portal and kept running. The portal was gone. He tripped and fell on his face. He snarled and tore around the clearing like the wild beasts he hunted. He saw his hand disappear in mid air and kept walking. He found himself in the tavern again but Jaskier was gone. 

He echoed what he had said years ago: “He’s just a bard.” How could he expect Jaskier to be anything else. He did his best and he was no warrior. Geralt leaned against a post, pinching the bridge of his nose. He loved the bard’s voice in spite of himself. His undeniably sexy voice, despite his many failed lyrics. 

“I’ve done him wrong.” Geralt pushed his way out through the throng of tavern patrons and through the back entrance. The air was thick and heavy but considerably fresher than the air inside. Sitting in a puddle, slumped against the tavern was Jaskier, bleeding from various scrapes and wounds. He had been badly beaten. The Witcher crouched down immediately, doing a terribly inaccurate job of hiding his joy at seeing Jaskier again. 

“Geralt” Jaskier exhaled. “You’re alive.” He wiped his eyes still wet with tears and smiled. “I _knew_ no one would get your story right like I can!!” Geralt gripped his shoulders. 

“Jaskier, you’re hurt.” 

“Perceptive as always.” He coughed and held his side. 

“What happened,” Geralt asked although he could guess the reason. 

“They liked my crying even less than my singing.” 

Geralt helped Jaskier to his feet, but winced himself. 

“You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing.”

“You need rest.”

“You need it more than I do.” 

“Can you walk?”

Jaskier nodded. Geralt held him closer than was absolutely necessary. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, bowing his head. “I’m sorry. Sorry I didn’t…say…what pleases me. And I’m sorry I lashed out at who was closest…you.”  
“Geralt, what are you doing?” 

The Witcher looked down at the man in his arms, perplexed for a moment. Then he said in a gruff whisper, “Delivering exposition.”

“Thought that was my job…unless I’m not welcome.” 

“Shut up and help me find the portal I came in through.”

“There he is,” Jaskier said, with a knowing nod. 

Geralt pretended not to notice, supported Jaskier with one arm, and felt his way forward with his free hand. 

“It should be in the tavern,” Geralt said to himself. “Unless it moved.” 

“Geralt?”

“What?!” Geralt growled, threatening to lose his temper. 

“Your arm’s disappeared.”

“Oh.” In a second they were through the portal and in the clearing. 

“Well that’s handy.” 

*+*+*

  
Geralt leaned over the side of a large tub, tending to Jaskier’s wounds. It occurred to him that he had rarely seen the bard without his sumptuous clothes. Usually a little chest hair was poking up between layers of cream and crimson or azure cloth, but now it was fully on display. Jaskier reveled in the touch of the Witcher’s rough finger tips, mulling over all that Geralt had told him of Yennefer and Ciri feeling blissfully relaxed. He cocked an eyebrow. 

“Remind me again why a man with the number of scars as you have is patching me up?”

Geralt grunted, then remembered that speaking a few words might be the better choice. 

“Consider it part of my apology.” 

“I could get used to this.” 

“Don’t.” 

Jaskier looked into Geralt’s yellow eyes as the latter brushed the hair off his forehead. He applied ointment to the bard with more skill than Jaskier, though still delightfully awkward and rough. Steam wafted around them and Geralt seemed to be in a trance, his eyes fixed on Jaskier’s mouth. He waited, waited for the perfect moment to claim the bard’s lips. He carded his fingers through the younger man’s hair, gripped him hard and pressed his lips to Jaskier’s with a tenderness that surprised them both. Jaskier’s eyes closed and he heaved a lustful sigh. Without warning Geralt stood up and stripped off his clothes and slipped into the water, his imposing figure flooding Jaskier’s space. The younger man’s chest rose and fell and he swallowed. The Witcher sat next to him, sinking deep into the water, stretching out his legs. 

Jaskier took a risk and reached out to Geralt’s injured leg. At first, Geralt was shocked and grumbled quite a bit, but then he began to relax as the bard’s gentle fingers worked out the tension in his damaged thigh. He stared at Jaskier with fiery intensity and lunged forward, pressing Jaskier into the side of the tub. 

“Whoa! Haha, Geralt.” 

“Is this alright?” Geralt growled, his eyes hooded. Jaskier ran his hands up the man’s wet, hairy, thick chest, freely taking in the Witcher’s naked form instead of catching a peripheral glance. Geralt was on tenterhooks but Jaskier. The bard caressed him, breathing deeply. 

_“When a humble bard_   
_Graced a ride along_   
_With Geralt of Rivia_   
_Along came this song”_

Jaskier’s voice was like honey, sweet and rich. Geralt could never admit it to himself let alone tell the bard. Jaskier had barely whispered the word “song” when Geralt captured his lips, desperate to taste the honey-sweet notes. They parted, on the precipice of great passion, breathing each other’s air. 

“Are you scared of me needing you?”

“Not as much as I was before.” 

**Author's Note:**

> My apologies if I’ve messed up canon or gotten something wrong. I’m new writing for this fandom. Also lost two of my three jobs, writing my Master’s thesis, and life is insane right now. Please don’t hit me. LOL. Enjoy.


End file.
